The Newest Apprentice
by CartoonCrushGirl
Summary: Slade once had a wife. And before she left, she gave him one of the most powerful weapons she could: a child. Sonja has always been at the mercy of the state, and she learned to be strong. But when she meets her dad, who has the offer of a lifetime, what will happen when she says yes? She does everything Robin did, and does it better. But who IS better? Rated T for my paranoia.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey anyone reading this! Okay, I have a few things to get out of the way before I start this. First order of business: the disclaimer.  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans, blah de blah de blah.  
Second, anyone reading this who is one of those ultimate fans, DC comics, who do major research and read all the comics and stuff, I'm not that kind of person. I know Slade AKA that assassin guy already has those kids. I don't care. Just bear with me and pretend none of that ever happened. ANd for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, ignore these past few lines.  
Third: This is more or less an experiment on my part. So, I repeat, bear with me.  
****Ok, here we go. Enjoy!**

SLADE P.O.V.

She dissapeared 6 months after the birth. She didn't love me, not really, but that was not relevant. She gave birth to Sonja, nursed Sonja, loved Sonja. And then, in the middle of the night, just left. No idea how, as there was only one exit to my 'lair', as some people call it, and it was heavily guarded. Anyway, She left me to take car of a child I didn't have time for. She betrayed me.

My wife.

I tried to take care of Sonja, or rather, made robots to take care of Sonja, but when she turned four, I had plans I needed to work on. And I had no time for little girl. I had left Sonja as a ward of the state and was not surprised that she ran away. Several times. Though each time she did, she was caught, each time there was a longer breadth of time before the capture. She was clever, just like her father.

I finally decided, after Robin and Terra, that I needed a new apprentice. One that would trust me, relate to me. One that _wouldn't_ disobey. I knew that Sonja would be perfect. A strong little girl, of great intellect. I could harness her skills, her mind, and hone her abilities. Make her like more me. Now, I just needed to _find_ the eleven-year-old little runaway...

SONJA P.O.V.

I walked out of the thrift store with a few bags and slipped into the nearest gas station (only across the parking lot, no biggie). Staring straight ahead, I slid past the rows of tantalizing food and into the bathroom, escaping the watchful eyes of the man at the counter. Once inside I began digging through the bags, pulling out the contents one by one.

I slipped on the dark jeans, and then tucked into my pocket my phone and the money I had snagged from my recent foster family and unsuspecting passersby. Then I yanked on the form-fitting black t-shirt, which was soon followed by the plain white hoodie. Done dressing, I pulled out a couple of ponytail holders and put my chocolate waves of hair into a braid down my back. Unlike _some_ desperate runaways, I would not be cutting my hair. A choppy hairstyle would probably attract unwanted attention. Besides, I had spent a long time growing out my hair. It was now down to the small of my back, and I would not be cutting it all off now.

I slipped on the brown hiking boots that would be helpful if I needed to make a quick getaway, and stowed everything else into the canvas bag. I hesitated, then started stowing what little weaponry I had.

I was more experienced than I had been my first time running away, and _definitely_ more experienced than your average runaway. My being what you could call _gifted_, or more accurately a prodigy, assisted my efforts greatly. My more recent families had been foolish enough to enroll me in self-defense and gymnastics, and I was self-taught at a few... more _unorthodox_ fighting methods. YouTube had been a large benefactor to my skills.

I slipped my standard pocketknife into my back pocket, and then tucked my two throwing knives that were almost certainly illegal into my boots, one in each. It's amazing what you can buy on the Internet. I considered putting my lock-picks into my jacket, but discarded the idea. Putting all of them in there would create a bulge that people would notice, but leaving them all in my bag would be foolish. I decided to simply put one in my jacket pocked, and did so.

Done with my 'makeover', I stepped out of the bathroom, walked outside of the gas station, and went around to the back of the building. Once I got there, I sat down on the filthy concrete, pulled out my worn composition book and a pencil, and went over my plan again to make sure it was foolproof and, if needed, make the necessary tweaks.

I was going to either hitchhike or steal a bike (both were bad ideas, the question was which was more likely and which was more illegal.), somehow get transportation to either a poor or populated area of California, and basically pretend to be homeless. Not the ideal situation, but either I could make it better through money (money can buy anything, either material objects or people), or obtain the pity of some saps trying to help a 'poor innocent kid'. Hygiene was going to be an issue, but that was the price I had to pay for freedom from those idiots.

I didn't sense the figure on the roof above me, reading every word, until he shifted and I caught a glance of moving shadow. I pretended not to notice, and nonchalantly shifted so, not only did I have access to my boot and the knife within it, I would spring up at a moment's notice. I carefully, trying not to visibly move much, slipped a knife from my boot and slid it under my legs.

I shut the notebook, set it down next to me, and leaned my head back against the wall, pretending to be exhausted. It wasn't hard. I hadn't slept since I had slipped out in the middle of the previous night. I detected a slight shift of the figure above, and right as he silently jumped down, I tensed, popped the knife from the pavement and into my ready hand. I shot forward in a double somersault to get some distance, flipped the knife in my hand, and launched it towards the strange person landing right where I had been a few moments ago.

He dodged, and let the knife hit the wall, and then fall to the ground. I snatched the other knife form my left leg, and carefully aimed and threw it. HE dodged quickly again, more athletic and fit than many people I had met before. HE knelt, picked up the two knives that were now actually special to me, and straightened slowly, inspecting them.

I quickly, but with slightly shaking hands, grabbed the blade from my pocket, flicked it open, and held it between me and the strange man. He was definitely not some ordinary stranger. Not only was he very skilled athletically, he also was dressed peculiarly. The black armor was strange enough in itself without the mask that was black on one side and bronze on the other, and seemingly had only one eye hole.

His build indicated a grown man, in his thirties or forties. Interesting. "Good choice in knives, child," he said, in a low, smooth voice. "Black steel, razor sharp, and almost perfectly balanced. You have good taste." I bristled. "They used to be perfectly balanced. The coating of a rubber solution, though only a millimeter thick, was enough to just barely change it. A necessary sacrifice so my fingerprint cannot be elected from the handle. Still perfectly capable of being stuck through someone." I said.

"Very good. You are intellectually above many. You will work more efficiently than I had hoped." Now I was slightly wary. I knew he probably wished me to serve some purpose. If he laid one finger on me without my permission, I would not hesitate to shove my pocketknife through him. But if it got rid of my plans to live on the streets... this could work to my advantage.

"So, Sonja," I filed away the fact that he knew my name for later, "That is a thought-out plan. But how would you like to avoid it?" I was mentally screaming YES. "I'm listening." I said, keeping my voice even and uninterested.

He spoke again in that unnerving voice of his. "What would you say if I said that I am your father and I could train you to be a perfectly capable criminal?" Ok, so he was nuts. What else is new? "I would say that you are either mentally imbalanced or extremely cliche." I said, acting amused. "My name is Slade. You can call me Deathstroke if you wish." Wait a minute... Deathstroke? I had read about him. He was a previous assassin. The resemblance in color schemes and similarities in builds and abilities were adding up...

"Slade, huh? Well, I wouldn't be surprised that some criminal mastermind was my father." I said, scoffing. He simply said in that even voice that was growing familiar and that I recognized to be similar to my own, "Oh? And why not? "Some, if not all, of the intellect you possess is also mine." I said smugly.

"So?" He said, sounding slightly impatient. "My offer stands unanswered. Would you like to train to become the next great criminal?" It was tempting... there was a large chance this was a trick, but if it was authentic, this could be huge.

"I will accept." I said. I leaned down, placed my notebook in my bag, and slung it over my shoulder. He nodded, and gestured toward the edge of the building, where a black van (very incognito, Slade) was waiting, the driver's seat already occupied by what I was assuming was a robot. I walked towards the car, and slipped into the back. I watched as Slade walked around the front of the car, opened the side door, and slid smoothly into the seat next to me. He leaned down and opened a briefcase, not bothering to close the door.

"I am sorry about this, but you are not trusted. At least, not yet." He pulled a rag from the briefcase, and a strange chemical scent filled the car. When he leaned forward and tried to shove it against my face, I recognized it to be chloroform. I reached backwards, flung open the car door, and leapt from the van at a run. If I could just make it around to the front, he couldn't get me.

I felt strong arms wrap around me, yank me off my feet, and fling me into the air back where I had ran from. I was surprised when I landed upside down in the van that no bones were broken, or even sprained or dislocated. I felt the rough rag be shoved against my face, but held my breath. I acted out the appropriate response, at first fighting but then batting my movements grow sluggish and eventually collapsed.

Slade caught me with surprisingly tender touches, and laid me back straight in my seat. He fastened the seat belt (why did he bother?), went out to sit in the passenger seat up front, and pressed a button. Then the figure drove forward, out of the lot and onto the road. I cracked open one eye to see them sitting there, staring forwards. I smirked slightly, making sure not to make _too _noticeable movements. I would go along with this for now, but I wasn't playing by Slade's rules. I was playing by my own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey anyone reading this! I hope you liked the last chapter I posted! And now... the disclaimer you've all been waiting for...  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans. I will soon. Just you wait, I will.  
In this chapter, I'm trying for quality, not length. So review to tell me how I'm doing on that please.  
And...yeah. That's it for this round- I mean, this chapter. Now all that's left for you guys to do is read and review! ENJOY!  
**

SONJA P.O.V.

I tried to stay alert all throughout the car ride, but I had not slept in approximately 34 hours. I needed rest to be ready for whatever challenge this guy was going to throw at me. By the end of the trip, it was as if the chloroform _had _worked.

I woke up in a bed. Ok, standard statement, but whatever. I woke in an austere room, mostly colorless. Gray walls, standard military-esque bed, little else. There was, however, a little desk in the corner made of what appeared to be mahogany with a small, black leather chair next to it. In that chair sat my bag and... my clothes?

The hoodie, shirt, pants, and boots I had been wearing all sat, folded and neat, in a little pile on the desk. I walked through the little door on my right, attempting to be calm, and entered a bathroom. In the bathroom was a showering area, a sink, and- as I had hoped- a full-length mirror.

I looked at myself, slightly weirded out, for lack of better words. I was in black yoga pants and a plain white tank top. I also noticed that I was barefoot and that my hair was no longer in its braid but in a long, dark ponytail down my back. The main thing I noticed, however, was that these were _not the clothes I had been wearing when I had fallen asleep._ Had this guy dressed me? So weird, even if he was my dad.

I slipped out of my clothes (thank goodness I still had on my gray sports bra and my underwear), yanked my hair free to fall down my back and, against my better judgement, stepped into the shower. I scrubbed every inch of my skin, wanting to look my best for some reason, I washed and combed my hair thoroughly and, after I stepped out, wrung out my hair.

I wanted to change clothes, but seeing as the only clothes I had were the weird clothes from Slade and the slightly wrinkled and dirty clothes from yesterday. I decided to mix and match. I slipped on the black yoga pants, but also my black t-shirt and hiking boots. I fished through a couple of drawers until I found a hairbrush (also standard) and put my hair in a braid again, but this time a fishtail. Much more efficient, as it could whip around easily and would stay styled and not frizzy for longer periods of time.

I inspected myself, in the almost all black outfit, my hair darkened from the water. I looked... different. But a good different, I convinced myself.

I walked out of the bathroom, across the bedroom, and to the main door. I inspected it, trying to figure out how to open it. This was my first test, I supposed.

No handle visible, and when pushed on it did not give way, so not a standard door. There had been no remotes in any of the drawers or on any surfaces, so probably not remote controlled, at least, not from this side. I attempted kicking the door out, but only tried once. One hit informed me that it was reinforced. Brute force would not work. I inspected the door more closely, and observed that while it was mostly uniformed, one small section shoulder-height was a lighter shade of grey.

I, acting on a hunch, pressed my dominant hand, my right, to the discoloration, palm flat ant totally on the door. A glowing blue light scanned my hand, and a small orange light pointed up at the ceiling, where I could hear a whirring. I looked up, and say a rectangular opening in the ceiling that had not been there a few moments before. "Air ducts." I said, a bit relieved, a bit irritated. "Great."

A few families ago, I had ran away but crawling through a series of air ducts. I knew the vibrations of generators and the whirring of ducts and air conditioners. Translation: I could tell which ways would lead to a main room. With a man like Deathstroke/Slade, the main area he wanted me to go would probably be the room that generated and maintained the most power. So all I had to do was go in the direction of the vibrations and clicks, and I would succeed.

I climbed onto the small bed, and looked up the five feet to the duct. All smooth, no real grips. Reaching back into my bag on the desk, I pulled out my favorite black fingerless gloves, great for getting traction on smoothie surfaces and gripping, and inspected the bottoms of my boots. Perfect. I thought back to the videos on martial arts and acrobatics. They had been experts simply performing them, but after watching the video a couple of times I had gotten the hang of it.

I took a deep breath, and ran at one wall. I leapt, and felt my hand and feet connect. At that moment, I pushed off to do the same thing a bit higher on the opposite wall. I repeated this process until I was almost to the ceiling. At that point, I made a leap at the ceiling and managed to get my hands and feet wedged in the hole, and I was folded in half.

_Great, now what? _I thought sarcastically. I bent my back to the breaking point, and felt around inside of the vent. A few inches up, it went both ways. I gripped the edges of both sides with both hands, and straightened my feet so they fell out. Now I was hanging from a vent a few feet up. Great. I slowly pulled myself up over the hole, and felt both sides carefully. The right was vibrating more than the left, so I headed that way. I kept deducing the way to go using this method until I ended up over a grate maybe fifty, sixty feet up.

Looking down, I saw Slade standing in the middle of the room in front of some monitors. I removed the grate silently, and slid out of the hole to tumble in midair. I tucked my arms and legs in, and began somersaulting carefully, keeping my eyes on the floor. I studied my trajectory and the rate I was going, curved my body at the exact right moment, and hit the floor gently, somersaulted twice, and landed kneeling, one hand on the floor and one in a tight fist. Unscathed, and I still was doing well.

I faced Slade's back, as he still hasn't turned around. "Is the tryout over yet?" I asked sarcastically. He turned around and... it wasn't Slade. It had no face, not even a mask. Just some gears and wires and a screen for a face. Sladebot, I decided to call it. The screen lit up, and there was Slade.

"Not quite yet. Just one more test of your fighting skills." I heard stomping behind me, and I whipped around to see a dozen more Sladebots marching in. All screens illuminated, the same eerie voice magnified a dozen times. "Defeat them. All of them." I glared at him in one screen for a second, then processed what he had said. "What?!" I said incredulously. "There is a weapons rack to your rear left. It has plenty of knives and blades you can use. I would suggest you reach it. If you can."

I tensed my muscles, and made the moment slow down in my mind. I turned around, everything seeming to be in slow motion. I had Sladebots moving in on all sides, but I could see the weaponry from here. I could see two beams from here, and if I could flip over the robots, grab one beam, flip around it, and land on the other beam, I could simply jump down and be next to the precious blades.

I tensed my muscles, returning to the moment, and launched into the flip. If only I had been a few inches farther...


End file.
